Sherlock Pon Farr
by Emia35
Summary: Sherlock is a Vulcan science officer on a Starship. John is a security officer. Sherlock goes into Pon Farr and John unknowingly shows up to inquire about odd noises.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Mature stuff doesn't happen till ch 3 I wanna say?

Sherlock was working the graveyard shift in the science lab, when he first stared becoming uncomfortable. Staring down the microscope at the blood of a Klingon captain and trying to decern if there was any difference genetically between it and that of a sub par Klingon should have been enough to keep his mind busy but he was finding his thoughts wandering. Unconsciously tugging on the collar of his uniform, and shifting on his chair. He was... antsy...

This was highly unusual. Calm and poised were the Vulcan way. Not fidgety. Or easily distracted. As he constantly was at the moment. Back to work... hmm he'd never realized how the standard Starfleet pants looked like they were specifically designed to show off the boots. Curious. This led to the new security officer who was wearing said pants. Sherlock hadn't asked his name, seeing as he had yet to prove useful in anything except looking around awkwardly. Maybe Sherlock should- no. Back to work. Focus. This project needed to be done before 0700 this morning.

This was when Sherlock noticed the building heat in his stomach. Quite small at the moment, but still, Sherlock should report to sick bay. In case this was something picked up on the last away mission.

Heading across the room, his eyes were drawn again to the new officer. Note: find out more about new security.


	2. Chapter 2

Down two decks and across the ship, Sherlock was being scanned by a short brunette. Terribly annoying, as she was so shy, she could barely be within three feet of Sherlock. Huffing, something he never did, Sherlock reached out, grabbed her hand with the medical tricorders' scanner, and brought it to the recommended six inches from his body. She let out a small gasp and her hand shook.

Sherlock sighed and said, "You're supposed to hold it like this. Please do your work correctly."

She pinched her mouth, and nodded. Her dilated pupils said she was attracted to Sherlock. The heat in his stomach worsened. What was going on?

Sherlock decided that nothing was going to come of this. He hopped down from the medical bed and set off to his quarters. Meditation on this would certainly help. Would clear his mind enough to find whats wrong with his body and go about fixing it, whether through medication or other help.

His door slid open with a soft swoosh and the warmth welcomed him. Wrapping around his body and what usually soothed him only further aggravated his condition.

Setting up his meditation supplies and lighting the incense, Sherlock focused inward, readying for meditation.

He sat down and breathed deep. Strange, his sense of smell was heightened. Opening his eyes, he found his eyesight was better, too. All of a sudden his clothes were scratchy on his skin. Unbearable.

No. Not that. He'd heard stories of Vulcans going into Pon Farr away from Vulcan and the results were less than optimal.

He would get through this. He had to. Sherlock stood up and started to rearrange his furniture. Putting out his incense and relighting new, replicated ones. Everything was wrong for the meditation he needed to preform.

He rolled out the new mat and sat down in the form he had been taught for emergencies. Steeple the fingers, bow the head, close eyes, star the required breathing pattern. Breathe in, one two three four, out, one two three four.

There was a problem. The heat was increasing. No. No. He would not give in to his primal urges. He was above that. Breathe one two three four. Breathe.

His mind couldn't reach the right level of ascension for meditation to work. He would not give in.

Frustrated, he opened his eyes. A snarl ripped from his throat. Was that him? What kind of beast was he? A low growl escaped and he couldn't sit still anymore. He got up and paced. Back and forth, his fingers still in the position. Concentrate. Focus. Still growling under his breath. Damn.

The door beeped, informing him of a visitor.

"Go away!" he shouted. This wasn't him. Forcing himself over to the door, it slid open. Revealing the new security guard. "What are you doing here?" his voice was rough. Throaty.

The officer looked taken aback.

"Hello, I'm Officer Watson. I heard a weird noise coming from here. Are you alright?" Concerned look. Sherlock tries to see past it to the real emotion. It's real concern! How strange!


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlocks fingers were tangled in the Officers hair, chest to chest with the shorter man, Sherlock brings his other hand to meet with his face. Thumb to chin, index to cheekbone, middle to temple, and the rest tucked into his hair. Words come to his lips. Words from long ago. Spoken only as a child, only once.

"My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts."

He focuses on the words and repeats them. Trying to understand them. He feels a presence in his mind. He can feel the thoughts of the other man. He can't hear them. They're mumbling and sound as though through a barrier. Unintelligible. But the emotions come across.

Awe. At Sherlock? Yes. Arousal. Good. Fear? That has no place here. Sherlock removes the feeling with a mental dismissal.

Something clicks and Sherlock staggers back. Officer Watson's eyes are glazed and he reaches for Sherlock.

"I remember. It was erased it but I remember now."

It had been on one of his brother's diplomatic trips to earth. The humans there were so desperate. Hungary for the smallest knowledge the wouldn't need to work for. Lazy. Despicable. And utterly incapable of finding solutions to the smallest problems.

He was just a child then but he was smarter than all of them.

After several less than diplomatic remarks about these facts, and some choice observations. He was sent was sent out to "play". They hadn't seemed to understand that Vulcan children don't "play".

So Sherlock wandered the diplomatic court. Sunlight streaming in through large open windows. Wind whooshing in. Aesthetically pleasing but nothing more. Sherlock notices a human boy gazing out the window approximately thirty meters down the hall. His clothes spoke of a lower middle class family. Blond hair, blue eyes, his mind cataloged. Nothing special.

A terrible crashing comes from the room directly behind the boy.

"Give it to me! I know you have it!"

"I swear I don't! I didn't take it! Please! I need this job!"

"Get out! Get out, you stealing piece of trash and take your filth with you! I should have never let you in!"

Finally something exciting. Sherlock hurries over just as the woman accused of theft escapes out of the room. A rather heavy object following her out. An older robust Verdian comes hurtling out of the door. Sherlocks eyes do a quick analysis. Verdian. Green skin pigment to photosynthesize. Member of the royal class judging by the tone, but not in line for the throne or she wouldn't be waited on by a human. Slightly darker shade on wrist and middle finger. A slabal. A bracelet ring mix storing sunlight to feed away from the Verdian home planet, Arster.

"She didn't take your slabal."

"Excuse me?"

"You've clearly fallen on hard times judging by the wear in the hem of your dress. Quite expensive and last years fashion, but you needed something appropriate to wear to ask for money. You sold your slabal, quite a silly idea if you ask me, seeing as it's your only source of nutrition away from Arster. You can't afford to keep live-in-help but you can't fire them and save face. Please stop blaming the humans for your poor financial self-control."

The Verdian splutters in a quite unseemly way of someone of her stature, turns on her heel and stalks back into her rooms.

"Well. I should be off." Sherlock gives an off handed smirk and pivots to walk away. Only to find a small hand on his arm. He is horrified by the gall of the child. Touch is saved for the most sacred of times and here he is just casually laying a full hand on Sherlock.

He shoots a withering glare and the boy quickly lets go.

"I- I just wanted to say thanks and that you were amazing." Sherlock steps away.

"That isn't what people usually say."

"What do they usually say?"

"Piss off." The boys eyes widen and a smile creeps onto his lips. Sherlock shows no emotion. But he feels the amusement.

"I'm John Watson."

"Sherlock Homes."


End file.
